A Malfoy's Problem
by ForeverSirius77
Summary: Dragons, vampires, hospitals, and riddles all combine together to give Lucius Malfoy a trying experience as he seeks out the answer to a plaguing problem: How to get his magic back. A Gauntlet Challenge II submission on MNFF.
1. Part I

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognize does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. However, anything you do not recognize does belong to me._

_Summary__: Dragons, vampires, hospitals, and riddles all combine together to give Lucius Malfoy a trying experience as he seeks out the answer to a plaguing problem: How to get his magic back. __**A Gauntlet Challenge II submission on MNFF.**_

_Author's__ Note__: This is my second time writing Lucius, and both have been for the Gauntlet challenges, and this time was possibly even more enjoyable than the first. Of course, that could be because I managed to finish :) Now, I present for your enjoyment,_ A Malfoy's Problem.

* * *

**A Malfoy's Problem**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

******Part I**

* * *

The bright orange sun was starting its descent below the horizon on one of the hottest days of the year. Even the slight breeze that blew throughout the land was warm. No sounds could be heard, until the intense silence was broken by a slight _crack._

A tall wizard materialised out of nowhere in front of a pair of barred iron gates. Pushing a loose strand of his long, blond hair from his pale face, Lucius Malfoy watched as a short, round man hurried up the path towards him. When he reached the gates, the short man withdrew a wand and, muttering a few incantations under his breath, admitted Lucius into the compound.

"Mr. Malfoy," exclaimed the short man, extending his hand in greeting, "it's a real pleasure to meet you, sir."

Lucius shook the man's hand briefly, giving a slight nod of the head. The two wizards began their trek towards the main building, the short man prattling on and on the entire time.

"Name's Pete Harrison," he said, pausing to see if his companion would answer. Lucius did not. "As Head of Dragomirna Dragon Preserve, I'd just like to thank you personally for your family's generous donations to our work. It's really --"

Lucius tuned Pete out. The man's voice was quite annoying, to be honest, and hearing Pete's voice increased Lucius's already-present headache. His day hadn't been great so far, and having to be out in the heat of the day at a dragon preserve in Romania didn't help.

_And if it had been completely up to me, I wouldn't be anywhere near here,_ Lucius thought. It was only because of the Dark Lord that he had left the comfort of his manor to head to Romania and find an old acquaintance.

Matilda Roshgarth. Quite intelligent and only a year behind him, Matilda had always had a soft spot for magical creatures. She and Narcissa had been close during their time at Hogwarts, which was the main way Lucius knew her. But it wasn't because of Narcissa that Lucius was seeking Matilda out today.

_The Dark Lord wants something from her,_ he mused, but no matter how often he tried to come up with an answer, he honestly had no idea why Matilda. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as Pete's voice intruded.

"So, what brings you to the preserve today, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Harrison, letting his guest enter the main entrance first.

"I'm here to speak with Matilda Roshgarth," said Lucius. "There are some things I need to speak with her about."

Pete Harrison nodded and, getting the distinct impression that it would be unwise, didn't push the issue. Instead, he turned to a thin, black-haired witch at a desk next to him.

"Good evening, Sasha," he said, a sweet smile plastered on his face. "Can you tell me where I might find Matilda? There's a guest here who'd like to speak with her."

"Roshgarth left with Hudson about fifteen minutes ago," the witch responded. "They're doing further immunizations."

When she'd finished, Pete turned back to face Lucius. "I'm sorry," he said, "but it appears like she's not in right now. You're welcome to --"

"Where is she?" demanded Lucius, his voice now harsh. He had had enough. He was going to be home in a few hours, not spend some undetermined amount of time waiting on a witch to show up.

"She's out with the dragons, but --"

Lucius didn't wait for Harrison to finish. He turned quickly and left the building, entering the heat once again. He caught sight of several broomsticks leaning against the wall and, grabbing what looked like the best one, mounted and flew off into the sky.

It felt a bit cooler as he flew over the compound, his eyes spotting numerous dragons of many breeds slumbering below him. Finally, though, he saw something other than a dragon. A witch -- _obviously Matilda,_ thought Lucius -- stood in front of an angry and awake Welsh Green. Lucius scanned the ground around the witch, only to see a destroyed broomstick and a disguarded wand.

As the dragon reared up, ready to strike, Lucius turned his broom around and headed back towards the compound. He quickly dismounted and, spotting another dragon tamer, approached. A slight scowl appeared on his face, however, as his path was intercepted by Pete Harrison.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Pete, "did you find Matilda?"

"As a matter of fact, I did, and I suggest you send people out to assist her right away, as she's currently facing off a Welsh Green dragon."

Pete just stood there for a moment, almost like he couldn't believe what Lucius had said. _Come on, you incompetent fool,_ the blond-haired wizard thought. Finally, though, Pete's senses seemed to return to him and the short man began shouting orders to several workers around him, telling them to find Matilda.

The dragon tamers took off immediately, their brooms zooming through the air towards their endangered colleague, but even as he watched them, Lucius had a strong feeling that it was too late.

Lucius massaged his head for a brief moment, his headache even worse than before. Pete's voice intruding into his thoughts also didn't help the matter at all.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you all right?" he asked, frowning up at his guest as the blond-haired man held his pounding head in his hands.

"Fine," Lucius spat out, allowing his cool composure to disappear for a moment before regaining control, continuing with, "It's just a slight headache." _And you're strongly wearing on my already-limited patience._

Pete Harrison seemed slightly unconvinced as he surveyed Lucius. "You should probably lie down for a bit, Mr. Malfoy," said Pete hesitantly. "There are extra beds in the building, and I believe we also have something for your headache."

Lucius sighed. He had no idea what made him agree to Pete's suggestion, but he had. Within ten minutes, Lucius had gone from standing next to Pete outside the reserve's main building to reclining back in a large four-poster bed; his headache was already getting better.

He'd already sent a quick message to Narcissa, telling her he wouldn't be back until the next day. Pete Harrison had left Lucius in peace, an act that the latter was pleased with, and he soon drifted off to sleep; not even thoughts of Matilda or the Dark Lord were capable of keeping him awake.

* * *

When Lucius next opened his grey eyes, it was to see a bright, sun-filled room around him. He jerked up from his relaxed position, grabbing his watch, which read "noon," and Lucius immediately rose from his bed.

Noises came floating into his room as he got ready, and as the volume increased, Lucius scowled. He had thought his headache was completely gone, but that turned out to be a mistaken thought. It increased its pounding as the clamour of voices increased.

_What's going on?_ Lucius thought as he walked towards his door. It was then, with his hand ready to open the door, that everything of the past night came back to him. _Matilda's body,_ he thought.

Lucius opened the door, though, just to be sure that Matilda was the reason for all the noise. What he saw, however, was not exactly what he had expected.

Hundreds of wizards and witches ran up and down the corridors and across the lobbies. Doors opened and closed all around Lucius as people went in and out. But perhaps one of the oddest sights that he saw were the many witches and wizards who waved their wands around, acting like six-year-olds playing with their parents' wands.

After watching the people around him for a few seconds, Lucius went back in the room, shutting the door behind him. His head pain had intensified as he stood out in the noise-filled corridor, and now all he wanted was some peace and quiet. Reaching for his wand, he pointed it at the door and cast a Silencing Charm.

But nothing happened. The clamour of voices and other noises still drifted into his room. _What the --_ he thought, looking from his wand to the door and back again. Figuring he must have muttered incorrectly, Lucius cast charm again but, like before, nothing changed.

_Surely not,_ his mind said as Lucius tried to think of any possible reason this could be happening. There had to be a logical reason why his spell wasn't working.

"Accio," he muttered, pointing his wand at his watch. The results of this spell amounted to the same as the Silencing Charms -- nothing.

And suddenly, all the commotion and actions of the numerous people outside his room made sense. Everything came together in one, crashing moment.

"How can the magic be gone?" Lucius hissed as he struggled to retain control of his anger, which currently threatened to lash out at the nearest living thing.

_Magic cannot just disappear,_ he thought as he paced up and down the length of his room like a caged animal. _It's just not possible . . ._ But as his mind could come up with no possible explanations, Lucius focussed on figuring out a solution to his problem. It didn't take long.

_St. Mungo's._

Having an answer, Lucius left his room to try to figure out a way of getting across Europe without his magic. Dodging people busy running in all directions, Lucius headed towards the entrance he'd come through yesterday. Sitting at her desk was the same thin witch as before. She almost jerked out of her chair when Lucius approached.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy," she said, "I didn't hear you --"

"Which is one of the problems concerning all of this chaos," replied Lucius, waving his hand to encompass the lobby around him, a lobby filled with chaotic shouting and running.

"Yes, I know," the witch responded. "Things have been quite crazy ever since --"

"Where are this centre's research libraries?" asked Lucius, interrupting the witch once again. But she didn't seem to care; if she did, she didn't show it.

"Uh . . . dragon research or other -- ?"

"Other," he said, "and make it quick."

The witch pulled out a parchment scroll from her desk, scanning through it. Finally, she looked back up at Lucius, whose face held an expression that, had it been capable, would have torched her instantly.

"There's one on the third floor," she said. "It contains astronomy, charms, and Dark --"

"Thanks," muttered Lucius, walking away from the witch. He headed towards a tall, marble staircase on the opposite end of the lobby, climbing the first three flights. Looking around, Lucius headed towards a pair of double wooden doors at the end of the corridor. Above the doors hung a sign -- _Dragomirna Dragon Preserve: Library B._ He pushed the doors open and entered.

As Lucius entered the library, his grey eyes fell upon rows and rows of towering shelves stuffed with volumes of books to the point of overflowing. The library was pretty much empty, but Lucius paid no attention to the other occupants as he walked throughout the shelves.

_Transportation without magic,_ he thought, scanning the shelves' contents. _No Apparition, Portkeys, and any other spells . . . Brooms would still work,_ his mind exclaimed, _but how to travel to London?_

Lucius pulled a random book on the shelf and opened it, but it contained nothing useful. Lucius looked up and down the rows of shelves, thinking, _This could take awhile,_ as he withdrew another book.

Finally, hours after the sun had set, the answer arrived for Lucius Malfoy. He'd shut his twenty-fifth book with a slam, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips, and looked through the massive glass windows to see the twinkling stars beyond. Instantly, the answer arrived.

Lucius hurried outside of the building and gazed up at the night sky. _Years of astronomy finally become good for something._

Like an expert astronomer, Lucius scanned the night sky, his eyes finding the Big Dipper immediately. _There's Alkaid,_ he thought, focussing on the first star in the handle. _Then Alcor, Alioth, Megrez, Phecda, and finally Merak and Dubhe,_ he thought, reaching the two Pointer Stars at the end of the constellation. His grey gaze scanned the path up from the two stars, finally finding the bright North Star -- Polaris.

_Perfect,_ he thought. Looking around, he found the broom that he'd used yesterday and, without sparing a single glance back, Lucius Malfoy mounted the broom, his gaze on Polaris as he headed towards St. Mungo's.

Lucius continued flying for several hours, but he finally became too tired to carry on. His stomach also growled slightly and, irritated, he realised that he had not eaten anything since yesterday.

As he descended towards the ground, his blond hair blowing around his face in the night breeze, Lucius's eyes caught sight of a single building standing alone. Once Lucius became closer, he realised the single building was a lone wooden house.

_Finally,_ he thought as he landed. For a few seconds, he was a bit unsteady on his feet, having been in the air for so long. The feeling soon passed, and Lucius made his way to the front door of the house. His feet crunched on gravel and rocks, and tall grasses swept at his body as Lucius approached the front end of the house. As he got closer, the strong smell of decay assaulted his nostrils.

Lucius arrived on the threshold, his broom still in his left hand, when he had the distinct impression that something was watching him. He looked over towards his right and saw a sort of greenish, fungus-looking entity, its eyes blinking back at him. Picking up a nearby stick, Lucius poked the creature, jerking back slightly as it scuttled away on its numerous spindly legs.

"Bundimun," he muttered as the name of the creature arrived in his mind. His grandfather had had to deal with a Bundimun infestation once, in one of the old and rarely-used Malfoy Family properties.

Turning away from the front door, Lucius walked over towards a nearby window and peered inside the house. The window was covered with dirt and other grime, and Lucius had to bend down to look through the one clear spot in the bottom corner of the glass. What he saw caused a sigh of disgust to escape his lips.

The room beyond was home to several Bundimuns, some on the floor while others lined the walls, their eyes glaring at him through the window. A look of disgust on his pale face, Lucius backed away from the window and crossed to another window, trying to see if the view of this next room was better than its previous part.

Lucius looked through the second window to see a kitchen and dining area. There were barely any of the Bundimuns in this part of the house, but the lack of the creatures' presence still was not strong enough to entice Lucius into the house.

The thunderstorm that started within the next few moments, however, was strong enough.

Feeling that the house, as filthy as it was, was not worse than getting soaked in the raining storm, Lucius opened the door. _Who knows?_ he thought. _There could indeed be something useful in here._

Lucius did not get any further into the house, for as soon as he had opened the door, he heard the sounds of a motor running. Turning around, he saw a pair of lights coming down a nearby dirt road. Lucius stepped away from the house and approached the oncoming vehicle; waving it down to a stop, he realised it was a bus.

_Finally,_ he thought as the bus stopped, its doors opening wide to admit him. Though feeling that something was slightly off, Lucius boarded the bus anyway, throwing a Galleon at the driver as he took a seat.

The moment that he had taken a seat, Lucius jerked back in sudden surprise as what had been a bus suddenly turned into a horse-drawn carriage. _What the --_ he thought, but his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the voice of the driver.

"Welcome, you brave soul," he said, his voice becoming theatrical. "Very few have dared to take this special tour brought to you by TerrorTours. Soon, we will be depositing you at the castle home of Count Dracula, where you will enjoy a sumptuous Transylvanian cuisine prepared by the Count.

"From there, he will give you a tour around his magnificent castle and show you to your room," the driver finished as the carriage turned onto another separate path, slowing down as it reached a pair of tall, iron gates.

Lucius took the time when the driver paused to speak. "I simply need a fireplace connected to the Floo Network," he said. But it was as if the driver did not hear him.

"We, at TerrorTours, have also provided you with a kit that contains a clove of garlic and a classic book by Bram Stoker entitled, _Dracula,_ presumably being dedicated to the Count," continued the driver and as he spoke, the two objects appeared next to Lucius.

"Oh, and about the fireplace," said the driver, "I am sure that the Count has one, but it's probably best not to offend the vampire by wishing to leave immediately upon arrival." The horse-drawn carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of the wrought-iron gates, both of which immediately creaked open as the driver said, "Enjoy your stay."

With that, Lucius left the carriage, stuffing the garlic and book into a pocket as he did so. For a few seconds, he simply stood where he was, listening to the sounds of the horse's hooves and the carriage's wheels as it rolled away. Lucius then decided to make his way up to the front door.

As he climbed the front stairs, Lucius could not help but be slightly impressed at the size and atmosphere exerted by the Count's dwelling. The stone structure stood imperiously in front of him and, though it was undoubtedly ancient, appeared to be kept in fabulous condition. He was not able to admire the incredible markings on the front doors, however, because no sooner had he raised his hand forward to use the silver knocker did the door open, revealing the Count himself.

Count Dracula was, in appearance, elegant yet plain. His skin, as one would quite rightly expect, shone sickly pale, a colour that contrasted greatly with his dark black hair. He was thin and did not appear strong in any way, a vast misconception for many, for vampires had, by their very nature, unnatural physical strength. The long black cloak, adorned with silver accessories as it was, was perhaps the most elegant thing about the Count, other than his proud manner, that is.

"Welcome," said the Count, his blue eyes gazing intensely at Lucius, who gave off no sign of agitation.

"Evening, Count," replied Lucius as he stepped aristocratically across the front threshold. Turning around to face the vampire as Dracula shut the door, Lucius waited for him to lead the way through the impressive home towards the dining area, plans already taking form in Lucius's mind.

Upon reaching the dining room, both Lucius and Dracula took their seats at the large table, which was piled high with trays and trays of food. The goblets in front of the two men filled instantly to the brim with a white wine, and Lucius regally took a sip. Dracula, on the other hand, touched nothing.

After a few moments of silence, during which little of the food was messed with, (though the act did not seem to offend anyone), Dracula spoke.

"I do not believe that I received your name when you entered," he said, his voice soft. "Nor do I know why you have come."

Setting down his goblet quietly, Lucius turned and faced the Count as he answered.

"My name is Lucius Malfoy," he said, "and as for why I am here, well . . . I have a proposition for you, Count, a very beneficial one."

The vampire smiled from where he sat, exposing his gleaming white teeth. "And what might that be, Mr. Malfoy?"

"First, let me ask this: I take it you have a fireplace that is connected to the Floo Network?"

"Of course," said Dracula.

"And it is international?" asked Lucius, knowing full well that there were occasionally places where international travel was blocked.

"It is international indeed, Mr. Malfoy," replied the Count. "But what do my fireplace's connections have to do with anything?"

Lucius did not answer the question right away. Instead, he just continued on his previous subject. "I take it, Count Dracula," he said, "that you have heard of the Dark Lord in Britain?"

"Ah, yes," responded Dracula, a sigh of pleasure coming from him. "He is the very powerful wizard of whose name no one dares speak. There is a good deal of respect for him among the old families in the world," he said, "even amongst the vampire clans."

"And what are your views on the Dark Lord, Count Dracula?"

Dracula smiled at this question as he leaned forwards in his chair, his voice only slightly louder than a whisper as he said, "I have only respect towards him. Ignorant people fear his name and power in your country, whereas the same type of people feel those sentiments towards myself in my country. . . . Why do you ask about this, Mr. Malfoy?" finished the Count and, though he had vocalised the question, Lucius felt sure that his host was already aware of the answer.

Wordlessly, Lucius rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a gleaming red mark of a skull with a serpent as a tongue. "Because I believe we can both benefit each other," he answered.

* * *

Two or three hours passed before Lucius and Count Dracula left the dining table to head into the castle's library, where a Floo-connected fireplace stood on the far west wall. Dracula reached up on a bookshelf and took down a simple clay jar, filled to the top with green Floo powder.

Lucius took some and threw it into the fire, turning the flames instantly green. Before departing, however, he turned back and faced Dracula, who had just spoken.

"The Dark Lord will make good on that promise," he said. "Come to Britain and you will indeed be given anything you want. Plenty of other followers will indeed agree with me," continued Lucius, "when I tell you that the Dark Lord rewards loyal service most generously."

"I do not at all doubt your words, my friend," replied Count Dracula as he replaced the jar. "Honour from a wizard as great as the Dark Lord is all the assurance of promises that I need."

With that, the two men -- vampire and wizard -- shook hands in farewell. Lucius stepped into the green flames and, nodding in Dracula's direction, said, "St. Mungo's Hospital."

Lucius stepped out of a fireplace on St. Mungo's end, wiping a bit of ash off of his robes as he did so. He walked down the blindingly-white corridors towards a section of tall double doors. With a forceful push, Lucius opened the doors and made his way across the nearly empty lobby. The few wizards and witches present in the room looked up when he entered, but they soon went back to their own thoughts.

Striding up to a thin witch at the Welcome desk, Lucius stopped in front of her, saying, "Is Healer Keneth available?" The witch seemed slightly shocked at first, but recovered quickly enough.

"Yes," she said. "He's down in the Insanity Ward. I can page him for y --" But Lucius did not wait for the young witch to continue before he interrupted.

"Tell him that I will be in his office," said Lucius as he left the witch, turning down a white-walled corridor and entered a door at the far end. There was a golden name plate on the door, reading "Healer Richard Keneth," and Lucius shut the door behind him and took a seat on a large black sofa.

Healer Keneth walked into his office with a sort of braced and forced pleasant look on his slightly wrinkled face. The new Welcome witch, Julia Young, had come hurrying up to him, exclaiming, "Lucius Malfoy is in your office right now!" Richard had not wasted any time in heading towards his office, for it was not every day that one of St. Mungo's most generous contributors sought him out. The forced pleasantry that lined his face, however, was simply the result of his dislike for Lucius Malfoy. He didn't trust him, to put it simply.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Healer Keneth as he shook his visitor's hand in greeting, then sitting behind his elegant desk. "What can I do for you?"

Lucius held a stoic expression on his pale face, struggling to keep his dislike of the man before him at bay. Though he disliked Richard Keneth, Lucius knew that he would know what was wrong with his magic.

"I seem to currently be experiencing a slight problem with my magic," said Lucius as he looked at the Healer, trying to discern any appearance of dawning understanding and knowledge. It did not come right away.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Healer Keneth, though his mind was telling him the answer even as he asked. He hoped that his thoughts would be incorrect, for he did not want to tell Lucius Malfoy his answer.

Lucius exhaled before replying, the idea of voicing the problem with his magic irking him more than anything had in a very long time. "Are you aware, Richard," he said, "what can cause magic to simply stop working? To seem like it has vanished?" The returning look on Healer Keneth's wrinkled face was layered with knowledge, knowledge that Lucius could already tell was not going to give him a good answer.

Healer Keneth sat back in his chair and surveyed the blond-haired man before him. Lucius's words had just confirmed his previous thoughts, and the answer he must now give to his visitor and patient could be considered anything but good.

"I have heard your symptoms before, Mr. Malfoy," he replied, letting out a sigh as he did so. "There have been several cases like yours lately . . . all of those involved have suddenly discovered a surprising disappearance of their magic. It happens very quick and sudden, without warning, as I am sure you yourself experienced.

"My colleagues and I have been searching for explanations and cures since the first case. So far, there has not been any break; the only similarity that we have seen has been that the people have recently left the country or been around wild animals. Am I correct in assuming that you --"

"Yes, I had business in Romania to attend to the other day," snapped Lucius, interrupting the Healer. "You tell me that you are unaware of the cause?" he asked. "Fine, just tell me what is happening and a cure," he finished.

Sighing, the Healer looked piercingly at Lucius, Keneth's inner thoughts screaming that his patient was going to absolutely despise his next statements. "All of the previous cases," he said, "have been different in many ways, but in one way, they were all identical. . . . Within two weeks of the initial onset of the problem, the magic of every single patient has completely disappeared . . . permanently . . . forever." Healer Keneth finished speaking and stared at Lucius.

Lucius's mind had seemed to come to a grinding halt when he heard Richard's words. _It could not be true,_ he thought. _There was some mistake._ He had always had magic, after all; there was no possible way that it would be gone. He would not accept it.

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: Well, it was originally written out as a one-shot, but when the whole thing was put together, it was a little lengthy as just one piece, so I split it into two parts. The problem has arrived -- Lucius's magic is in danger of leaving him forever! Stay tuned to see if everything works out for the best._

___--ForeverSirius77_


	2. Part II

_Disclaimer: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me. _

_Summary: Dragons, vampires, hospitals, and riddles all combine together to give Lucius Malfoy a trying experience as he seeks out the answer to a plaguing problem: How to get his magic back. **A Gauntlet Challenge II submission on MNFF**. _

_Author's Note: Well, here's the next and last bit of this story. So, I present for your enjoyment, _Part II _of _A Malfoy's Problem

* * *

**A Malfoy's Problem**

**By ForeverSirius77 **

* * *

**Part II**

* * *

"And a cure for this is what, Richard?" he asked, holding back the intense urge to curse the Healer as a nagging voice screamed in his mind that he was powerless to do even that much. 

"There is not a cure, Lucius," replied Richard, using his patient's name for the first time that meeting. "I'm sorry, but there is nothing else I can tell you." And with that, Richard Keneth stood up and, leaving his patient sitting on the sofa, left his office to continue with his work.

Lucius did not move from the sofa right away. He was vaguely aware of Richard leaving, but the thought did not seem to affect him much. The only notion that floated in his mind was that of the Healer's words.

_No magic,_ he thought. _It's impossible._ He was a Malfoy, after all. A pure-blood wizard and the Dark Lord's right hand. There was no way he would be knocked down to a life without magic. It was simply an unacceptable idea.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, however. For a moment, Lucius thought Richard had re-entered his office and was on the verge of speaking to him, demanding that he find a cure, when he noticed that the room was empty. It had not been Richard Keneth who had spoken.

Instead, it had been the portrait of Sir Morton Raynius, an old Healer who had lived around five or six centuries in the past.

"Good day to you," Sir Morton stated, his round face splitting into a huge grin as he did so. "I could not help but overhear my fellow Healer's diagnosis to you, and I think that I may be able to help you."

Lucius surveyed the figure for a brief moment, his grey gaze cold as he looked at Sir Morton's obviously happy and cheerful expressions. "How so?" he asked.

"Why, you should seek out Hippocrates ---"

"The legendary Healer?"

"Oh, yes," answered Sir Morton. "His portrait hangs here in the hospital, you know."

Well, if he had been completely honest, Lucius had not known that a portrait of Hippocrates hung in St. Mungo's. But that detail did not really matter. "Where can I find this portrait?" he asked.

Sir Morton Raynius, however, did not seem to want to give Lucius a simple answer. Instead, the medieval Healer started to sing.

_I sing a tale worthy of myth and legend,_

_Few who doubted were later enlightened._

_I tell the story of how St. Mungo's came to be,_

_An apparition that Bonham had come to see._

_Grecian wizard of the past was this great man,_

_Through him Mungo Bonham's vision hath began._

_When the hospital was built, Hippocrates's ghost was at peace._

_Bondage upon his soul, this world hath finally released._

_A portrait of this ghost is all we have now,_

_One summer night is all that nature would allow._

_A night he'll come to share his boundless knowledge,_

_The only time when this ghostly portrait gains earthly passage._

_Alas, we know the time but ne'er the place . . ._

_Place whence the Healer's presence be grace._

_Many-a-claim from those who saw and were helped,_

_Many-a-patients his healing presence hath been felt._

Finally, the portrait was quiet, and even though Lucius asked and demanded him to answer some more simple questions, Sir Morton Raynius remained quiet. Eventually, Lucius just gave up and left the office.

Upon hearing Sir Morton's song, Lucius had made up his mind to find the portrait. St. Mungo's, in reality, was not an extremely large hospital, anyway, so it should not be difficult to find Hippocrates's portrait.

Hippocrates. He had been a brilliant Healer, one who had invented and discovered cures for hundreds of ailments. Most of his knowledge had been lost to time, unfortunately.

_But that lost knowledge could be just what I need,_ thought Lucius as he set off in search of Hippocrates's portrait, the notion of a cure and things returning to normal combating Healer Keneth's diagnosis in his mind.

Lucius continued his brisk walk through the many corridors of the hospital. So far, he had covered the first two floors, and there was still no sign of Hippocrates's portrait.

He paused for a moment before ascending a lift to the next level of the hospital. Next to him stood a couple of desks, each piled high with many of what looked like patients' medical files and charts.

_No wonder people have trouble getting things completed around here,_ he thought as he surveyed the disorganisation on the desks. As he continued watching the Healers hurry back and forth along the hall, a small note of parchment flew right at his face, heading towards his nose. Lucius glared at it and batted it aside with his hand, but the paper was relentless. It started poking his hand next and would not stop.

Malfoy wrapped his hand around his wand, intending to blast the annoying note to ashes, when he remembered that he could not use his magic. The knowledge of Healer Keneth's diagnosis increasing Lucius's already present irritation with the note, he reached out and tore the thing off of the desk, tearing it in half as he did so.

The fact that the note was now in two parts only made things worse, as both pieces started attacking Lucius at the same time. He reached out and grabbed both pieces, muttering, "Fine; I'll read it." And read it he did.

_'Clean and re-bandage Mr. Boheminton's wounds._' After he had finished reading the note, Lucius felt the pieces tear themselves from his hands and soar through the nearest patient's door and over to a bed, upon which lay an injured man, his entire body pretty much covered in bandages.

Lucius wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked at Mr. Boheminton. The man's bandages were pretty much soaked through with blood and other bodily liquids, and a couple of strong, unpleasant odours radiated off of him.

He turned away from the patient, intending to leave and continue on with his journey, but the two pieces of note would not let him. They both flew at the back of his head and began to poke him once again.

"All right," he muttered, flinging the letters to the ground. He walked over to the foot of the patient's bed and picked up the chart. Scanning down through the Healer's comments and notes, Lucius read that Mr. Boheminton suffered from a collection of many creatures' bites and burns, among them a werewolf bite on the right arm, injuries sustained by a manticore on his chest, and several burns achieved by an encounter with, at least according to the Healer, a fire crab.

_What the hell were you doing, Mr. Boheminton?_ Lucius wondered to himself as he left the patient's bed and headed over towards a tall storage cabinet on the wall next to the entrance door. Opening the cabinet, Lucius began searching through the dozens of bottles and vials on the three large shelves.

_A potion would be the easiest thing,_ he thought as he set aside a roll of fresh, white bandages for later. He knew what he needed --- He needed one of the multi-creature antidotes. _At least, that would be the quickest,_ he thought, moving aside the vials of bee stings and serpent bites potions. _Either a multi-use potion, or around three or four to combat the several different creatures._

Finally, Lucius found it. At the very back of the last shelf stood a dusty brown bottle with the scrawled words _'Melako's All-Purpose, Multi-Uses Formula: A Potion to Combat Many-Creature Injuries._' Turning the vial over, Lucius read the list of ingredients and made sure that they were, indeed, correct.

_Who would have thought that week in Potions would have been useful?_ thought Lucius, reading the instructions on the bottle. They were faded and scratched off in many places, causing the instructions to be slightly unclear at best. But still, what he could glean from it said to pour a tiny dose in the patient's mouth and then place accompanying paste on the wounds.

Lucius opened the top of the vial, giving the potion inside a whiff. The smell was very strong, causing Lucius to back away from it. _Well, here goes nothing,_ he thought, pouring a bit in Mr. Boheminton's mouth.

Everything seemed to react okay, and so Lucius continued by dumping a layer of the accompanying paste, which was basically just some thickened version of the potion, on the wounds. All went smoothly as the skin around the wounds gave off a sort of steam, (though Mr. Boheminton made no noise or movement), before the puss and blood was gone.

Stepping away from the patient and back to the cabinet, Lucius picked up the row of bandages. He placed them on Mr. Boheminton and left the room before any other notes could come flying at him.

Lucius did not stop outside Mr. Boheminton's door again. Instead, he headed straight for the lift that would take him to the third floor on his search for Hippocrates's portrait.

Leaving the lift, Lucius entered the main corridor of St. Mungo's third floor. _Perhaps here,_ he thought as he walked, his eyes scanning the walls for the illusive portrait. Upon reaching the end of the first hall, he had not found the portrait.

Rounding the corner at the end, Lucius continued on his journey through the hospital. He paused for a brief moment, however, when he thought he heard someone say his name. But no one was around, and he did not hear the voice again. Figuring he had imagined it, he continued walking on his way.

Lucius stopped walking once again, though, when the voice continued. And this time, he could not pass it off as imaginings, mostly due to the fact that the words were coming from his own mouth.

"The new dining table cost over 250 Galleons . . . Dinner last week was utterly horrible . . . A 200-Galleon donation ought to sufficiently cover it . . . The Dark Lo---"

Instinctively, Lucius covered his mouth to keep anything else from being said. Words about Galleons and dinners were one thing, but anything that related to the Dark Lord just could not be heard.

His mouth, though, continued to move, though the sound was blocked by his hand. _Damn,_ he thought as he walked along the deserted corridor, his eyes still scanning the walls for Hippocrates's portrait while they also searched for a Healer. _Why is one never around when you actually need them?_ he thought, irritated.

For Lucius had realised what had to have obviously happened, and all he needed was for a Healer to give him the antidote. Fortunately, he was already on the correct floor.

_The only possible explanation,_ he thought, turning another corner with still no sign of a Healer or Hippocrates, _can be one of two things. First, there was a dose of Babbling Beverage in the glass._ (For, thirsty and disgusted by Mr. Boheminton's wounds, Lucius had gone out of his way and taken a quick stop on the fifth floor for a drink, before heading back down to the third floor.) _Or it is the equally annoying and problematic Babbling Curse,_ he thought. _Either way, the answer is the same. All I need is the antidote to a Babbling Beverage, which can, fortunately, also be used to cure the curse, and luckily, I am already on the third floor._

His thoughts stopped, though, when he caught sight of a Healer. The witch was walking away from him but, fearful of something unwise being uttered, he did not want to remove his hand and speak. Instead, he jerked a piece of parchment and a quill from a nearby desk and, scrawling out the words _"Need antidote for Babbling Beverage,"_ Lucius ran after the witch, his robes blowing in an undignified manner behind him.

He finally caught up with her, though, and shoved the note in her hands. She read it, and quickly led him to a nearby room, in which sat many vials and bottles of all shapes and sizes. The young witch immediately picked up a vial that contained a bright green, bubbling liquid and handed it to Lucius. Lucius removed his hand long enough to drink the contents of the vial and, upon swallowing, felt a slight burning sensation in his throat before all was well.

Once the burning sensation had left, the only words that came from Lucius Malfoy's mouth were a muttered, "Thank you," accompanied by a slight nod in the Healer's direction, before he left the room, leaving behind a somewhat shocked young witch holding the potion vial.

Lucius walked up and down the fourth floor of St. Mungo's for the third time, trying to see if he missed the portrait anywhere. He hadn't and, tired, he collapsed in a nearby chair, massaging his head as another headache approached.

"You know, if your head is in that much pain, good sir, I suggest seeing a Healer," exclaimed a voice. Lucius's grey eyes looked up to see the portrait of a wizard in a simple brown robe on a wooden bench. The painted figure was staring down at Lucius and continuing to speak.

"I believe Muggles refer to them as 'too-mores' nowadays, but in my day, head pain seemed to trigger Boxyclavititus, a rare and oftentimes fatal disease."

His grey eyes narrowing as he stared at the portrait, Lucius rose, saying, "It's a headache, nothing more," as he walked away. The wizard in the portrait seemed relentless as he followed Lucius along the corridor.

"Your sickness is not simply a 'headache,'" the wizard said. "I'm Healer Bartholomew Petricolus, and I know what I'm talking about! You'd do well to listen before you perish ---"

Lucius stopped and went back to the wizard's portrait, pausing to read the plaque on the wall.

**Healer Bartholomew Petricolus**

_Lived during Dark Ages: Dates Unknown_

_A wise wizard, Petricolus made many discoveries to magical medicine. _

_Unfortunately, he was mistaken as a vampire, and Petricolus was_

_killed: a stake through the heart while he slept._

Smirking slightly, Lucius looked back at Petricolus. "You couldn't even protect yourself from Muggles," he said, disgust dripping from his tongue. "I'm supposed to take the advice of a half-bit wizard who was killed by _Muggles?_"

With that, Lucius started to walk away from the portrait and was relieved when he saw that the wizard was not following him, but he was stopped once again by the portrait's voice.

"Very well," said Petricolus, "but the word around the hospital is that you're looking for the portrait of Hippocrates." The mention of Hippocrates caused Lucius to turn back around and face the portrait.

"And you know where it is?" he asked.

Petricolus smiled, seemingly glad he was holding Lucius's attention. "Indeed I do, good sir," he answered. "And I was planning on helping you out. . . . But now, I don't think I shall do either."

Lucius refrained the urge to destroy the picture. Getting angry wouldn't help, and since he had been searching the hospital for hours to no avail, he knew he could really use Petricolus's help. "And why do you refuse to help me, Healer?"

"First off, because you're too rude," the portrait answered, "and secondly, you seem to have no regard for the older methods. I've no reason, therefore, to help you."

_Apparently, he will need some convincing._ Lucius searched his mind for anything he could say that would convince Petricolus to give up an answer. Finally, he settled on just rambling a bit.

"You have to help me," said Lucius, and Petricolus stared back at him.

"Why should I?"

"I'll tell you," replied Lucius. "You must tell me where Hippocrates is because I must get my cure. If I don't, the world will come to a screeching halt and you will be the sole cause of hundreds of deaths and infestations taking over."

"And how do you even remotely reason that out?"

"Simple," said Lucius, allowing himself a slight smirk before replacing the stoic expression. "You see, I must have the cure, otherwise my single problem will turn into many problems, thus creating a monster of problems. These problems are extremely contagious; they attach themselves to other unsuspecting individuals, where they grow and move on until the entire world is covered in problems, problems that have taken physical shape, resembling giant birds with leathery-looking wings that are capable of attacking people. Soon, these massive problems mutate into a point where they're fatal. After growing a disgusting, green-like fungus on their faces, all those people who had these problems erupt and spew fire, completely melting down into puddles of paste-like goo. This goo feeds normal pests of the world, and they become fifty times their original size and take over the world," finished Lucius, sighing at the complete nonsense he'd just rambled about.

"I don't think you're being honest with me," said Petricolus, though his brow was scrunched in slight thought. "Now, tell me why you need Hippocrates, and this time, no lies." By now, Petricolus's neighbouring portrait, that of Madam Cynthia Looklove, a Healer from the early 1900s, had joined Petricolus in his portrait.

"Fine," said Lucius, looking around to make sure that he wouldn't be overheard. "I'm a Death Eater, a servant of the Dark Lord, and a pure-blooded wizard from one of the oldest wizarding families. My family has given more contributions to this hospital than any other family, and I need my magic back so as to go back to my family and the Dark Lord, continuing on the path of killing, torturing, and ridding the world of Mudbloods."

The painted witch and wizard just stared at Lucius when he had finished. Finally, though, Petricolus spoke.

"I said not to lie," he said. His companion, however, tapped him on the shoulder and whispered to Petricolus.

"You know, Bart," she said, "I think he may just be telling us the truth."

"Oh, come now, Cynthia," said Petricolus. "If he was telling the truth, he surely would not have told us _this._"

Lucius answered before Cynthia could speak again. "Unless, of course, he knew you wouldn't believe the truth, even if he told it to you."

The two portraits stared at him. "What?" asked Petricolus, a look of intense confusion wrinkling his face.

"You were just about to tell me where Hippocrates is," said Lucius, to which Petricolus grinned, muttered, "Oh, yes," and spoke.

Lucius sighed as he walked briskly down the corridor to the lift that would take him back down. When he'd first heard Petricolus's words telling him that Hippocrates appeared in the main, large portrait of St. Mungo's founder, Mungo Bonham, he'd almost wanted to curse himself. The portrait had been the first one he passed after leaving Keneth's office.

_Naturally, I'd have to go all the way back to the beginning,_ Lucius thought as he stepped off the lift, entering the first floor's main corridor. He walked right up to the tall portrait of Mungo Bonham, an elderly wizard sitting regally a large, high-backed scarlet chair. His blue eyes seemed to glitter with knowledge as he surveyed Lucius, who stood in front of the portrait.

"What can I do for you?" Mungo asked.

Looking around, Lucius replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was told you could tell me about Hippocrates," said Lucius. "I need a cure from him."

Mungo Bonham smiled. "So I've heard via the hospital's many portraits," he said. "But, I'm afraid I cannot answer you directly."

"But ---" Lucius started but Mungo raised a wrinkled and frail hand so he could continue.

"You see," he said, "I have to keep with an oath I made that I'd never reveal his position directly.

"Yet I see you're in great need," continued Mungo, "and I understand . . . a Healer's task is to help find cures." Mungo paused for a moment and just watched Lucius. Lucius didn't say anything and Mungo spoke.

"If you can answer my question, I'll point you in the right direction," he said. "Would you prefer a 'mind game' or a 'game of chance?'"

Lucius thought about his answer for a moment. He'd never been a very reckless person; those were usually the Gryffindors; taking chances wasn't in a Slytherin's nature. The decision, therefore, wasn't as difficult as one might think.

"Mind game," he answered, confident in a cunning mind over a lucky chance.

"A mind game?" asked Mungo. "Very well, answer this riddle:

_Red eyes hath shone_

_Valuable is my egg_

_I have plenty of backbone_

_But lack a good leg._

Lucius thought about his answer. _Well, plenty of creatures have valuable eggs,_ he thought. _There are dragons, several types of serpents . . . Serpents, yes. They'd have backbone and no legs. . . . But which have red eyes and valuable eggs? Both the Runespoor and the Ashwinder --- That's it! The Ashwinder's eyes are red and its eggs are extremely valuable in potions._

"The Ashwinder," said Lucius.

Mungo didn't speak right away, and Lucius was starting to fear that he'd answered incorrectly. But then, a large grin split the portrait's face.

"'The Ashwinder' is correct," he replied.

Lucius breathed a huge sigh of relief. _Finally,_ he thought, rubbing at his exhausted eyes. "So?" he asked. "Where's Hippocrates?"

At that moment, the entire hospital was suddenly plunged into silence; not even the sound of breathing could be heard. The dozens of people were still present, but they were all unmoving. _What's going on?_ Lucius thought, but then his grey eyes caught sight of the only other moving figure in the room --- that of a portrait of an old, ghostly-looking wizard, hidden in a deep corner.

Hippocrates.

"Well, it seems that you need me," the painted Healer said as Lucius approached the portrait. His hand was held close to his wand. There was just something eerie about the entire scene.

"I believe you have knowledge that I require," answered Lucius. "Your reputation for curing the incurable is legendary, Healer Hippocrates."

The painted Healer nodded his head in acknowledgement. "And what is it that you need cured?"

Lucius looked around before answering, but everyone was still frozen. "I've lost my magic," he whispered. "The Healers don't know a cure, and it's imperative that I get one."

"I've seen your problem many times before, Mr. Malfoy," answered Hippocrates, nodding his ghostly head repeatedly. "Centuries ago, there was an entire plague that stripped wizards and witches of their magic. Many believed it a sign from the gods, or other such nonsense: The people had grown too powerful and must be taken down a notch, if you will.

"But I knew that wasn't the reason," he continued. "I became determined to discover why it had happened, or at the very least, a cure. So for years, I experimented. Nothing seemed to work; I found myself growing discouraged. But then, everything came together. On the seventh day, of the seventh month, in the seventh year since the plague's beginning, I came across a cure."

Hippocrates paused, and Lucius, upon hearing the Healer's voice cease, jerked his eyes up and glared at Hippocrates. "And the cure?" he demanded, his voice barely controlling suppressed anger.

"Ah, yes, the cure," the Healer continued. "It's a simple potion, Mr. Malfoy. I happened to create it by accident, to be honest. The point is that, by a pure mistake, I was able to concoct a most outstanding potion that cured everyone afflicted with the plague. All magic was returned."

"And you have the recipe to this concoction?"

"Of course not! It's been centuries, after all, and for the life of me, I probably couldn't recall _how_ to make the potion again after this long."

Lucius's patience had reached the end of its run. "Hippocrates," he hissed through clenched teeth, "I ---"

"You'll get the cure, Mr. Malfoy. I said I couldn't remake the potion, but I still have a few vials hidden. And don't worry," he said, seeing Lucius's expression at the thought of drinking a centuries-old concoction, "it's perfectly safe. The potion's everlasting, you know; it'll always be 'fresh.'"

"Where can I find this potion?"

Hippocrates smiled. "Look behind _me,_ Mr. Malfoy," he said, opening up as he spoke. Lucius looked behind the portrait. Where he'd expected solid wall, he discovered a little inlet, revealing a small, wooden chest covered with dust. He removed the chest and opened it.

Inside was a small, clear vial containing a simple, silver-coloured liquid. He withdrew the vial and, closing the portrait, held the vial up to Hippocrates. "Is this the cure?" he asked.

"Of course it is, Mr. Malfoy," the Healer responded, a wide grin on his face. "Just drink seven drops of that, and your magic will return immediately."

Lucius didn't need to be told twice as he popped the stopper off the vial, dripping seven drops into his mouth before swallowing. There was a quick, burning sensation that seared his throat, but it was quickly followed by a sort of icy feeling.

"Well?" he asked.

"Take out your wand and try it," Hippocrates answered. Lucius set the vial back into the chest and removed his wand from his pocket. Pointing it at a table of magazines, he muttered, _"Incendio,"_ and watched as everything burst into flames.

"I told you it would work," said Hippocrates as Lucius left his portrait and headed towards the hospital's exit. Lucius, his hand on the door, turned back to face the portrait.

"Yes you did," he said. And, with that, he left the hospital. Within seconds, Lucius was back in his manor, asleep in his room. He had his magic; he had his wealth; and he had his power.

Everything was as it should be.

* * *

_Author's Note: All right, there you have it; the end of another Gauntlet. Let me know what you think._

_--ForeverSirius77 _


End file.
